


A Helping Hand

by SoundandColor



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Kiss, Joss is Alive, Making Out, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/pseuds/SoundandColor
Summary: If Carter wants to go scorched earth on some assholes, Shaw will hand her the lighter. If she needs someone to do it for her, Shaw will go to work. If Carter wants to forget her troubles for a while, she’ll gladly drop to her knees. Anything. Right now, Shaw will doanythingshe asks.





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whilst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilst/gifts).



> This takes place in a beautiful season 3 where the last few minutes of The Crossing happen, things just turn out a bit differently.

“Your friend’s going to be fine.” Root says in lieu of hello. Shaw sighs and glances at the clock.

 

“It’s two in the morning.”

 

“Well, I thought you would be interested. _She_ says Carter’s necessary, so…”

 

Shaw sits up straight and pulls the collar of her jacket closed. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but thanks for the heads up. I’ll keep an eye on her anyway.”

 

Root doesn’t say anything, for a moment. “You like her, don’t you?” she asks, even though it’s not really a question. “You, Harold’s Cro-Magnon guard dog... Honestly, I don't see the appeal, but maybe she’s more interesting than I thought. Maybe I should—”

 

“Or maybe don’t.” The tone is sharper than she intended it to be, says more than she wants it to.

 

“You _really_ like her. Not more than me, I hope.” Shaw can hear her smile through the phone. See her teeth.

 

“How did you get out of the library anyway?” Shaw wonders out loud, changing the subject to something she’s actually interested in discussing. “They had that place all rigged up to hold you, and when we got back from dropping Alonzo off, you were gone.”

 

Root sighs deeply. “I guess She didn’t need me there anymore.”

 

“Ugh,” Shaw grunts, disgusted, and hangs up. She’s not interested in Root’s freaky relationship with The Machine and she has zero plans of leaving Carter’s safety to it, even if it’s never wrong.

 

So she’s here, night after night. Watching the windows, patrolling the sidewalks. Shaw feels the lock click and pushes inside without looking around. New York is freezing this time of year, but Carter’s apartment is neat, homey and warm. There are dozens of photos of Taylor, a few of family members and not nearly enough of Carter herself. Shaw reaches down, her hand hovering over a furry beige pillow, before she pulls it back without touching.

 

Shaw takes out her weapon and sweeps through each room quickly even though she didn’t hear a peep while sitting on the place all night. Not even from Reese. With Carter still laid up, they’ve taken it upon themselves to make sure that any suicidal HR assholes still in the city after Elias got to Simmons don’t try to finish the job their boss started.

 

She listens to the house for a moment (no footsteps, no closet doors opening, no one sliding out from under the bed) before she turns on the TV and makes her way to the kitchen.  Shaw’s eaten more McDonalds in the past week than she’d like to admit. Nothing is going to keep her away from the fridge. She opens the door and sees cold cuts, two beers, grapes and (paydirt!) a dutch oven on the bottom shelf. When she peeks under the lid, one half eaten chicken lays inside. She leans forward and sniffs, nothing seems off, but she knows the truth won’t be revealed until she’s heating it up.

 

Shaw closes the door, ready to search for a pan, and pulls her gun instead, heart beating wildly. Reese is standing there.

 

“Where the hell did you come from?” she demands, because she’s a hundred percent sure that he didn’t just walk in off the street. “I sat outside all night. I looked through every room—

 

“Well, obviously, not _every_ room.” He corrects, stepping around her and sitting at the table. She keeps her gun trained on him the entire time., then drops it onto the counter, annoyed. He picks up a newspaper someone left lying there and begins to read. A minute passes, then five more. She doesn’t want to be the first to break the silence but—

 

“Really, where were you?” It’s bad enough that she let him slip by her last night, but to miss him during her search… unforgivable. He just keeps scanning the page and doesn’t bother to answer. Shaw rolls her eyes and returns to her search for a pan, ends up finding one in the lower cabinet beside the sink.  Shaw will be damned if she makes him breakfast, so the kitchen is quiet as she cooks.

 

From time to time, she feels his eyes on her back. It’s making her antsy. “Spit it out already,” she says through clenched teeth.

 

“Spit _what_ out?”

 

Shaw turns toward him. “There’s something you want to say, so just say it already.”

 

He folds up the paper and sits back, gets comfortable. “Carter.”

 

Shaw has been waiting for this. Ever since the shooting, ever since they released him from the hospital, she’s been waiting. “What about her?”

 

“She’s lying in a hospital bed.”

 

“I didn’t put her there.”

 

“No, you didn’t. Carter does what she wants to do, but you should have told us.”

 

“ _Us_ ? Or I could have told _you?_ ” Shaw scoffs when he doesn’t argue. “Why are we even having this conversation? She’s going to be fine.”

 

“Did you ask why she needed that kind of firepower? You gave her a bag of guns and didn’t follow up afterwards.”

 

He disapproves, but she already knew he and Finch would. Shaw turns off the stove and plates her food.  She takes the seat opposite him at Carter’s small kitchen table and tries not to moan at how good the first bite of food is. “I made myself available.” Shaw goes on. “She didn’t want me there. I don’t continually throw my services at a capable person who’s already made it clear they aren’t interested.”

 

That’s not exactly a fair assessment of what Reese did (and the look he gives her says he knows it), but Shaw is going for the gut, not the truth. He didn’t insert himself into Carter’s show, just left himself open until she agreed to include him. Shaw respects that, but she doesn’t want to lead Carter by the hand or even walk beside her if that’s not what she needs.

 

When Shaw offered her assistance, all Carter needed was help off her self-imposed leash. That night, with no constraints, no badge, no moral qualms and no one to worry about at home… Carter had been beautiful, methodical, brutal.

 

Setting the Russians on HR? Perfect. Sending Taylor where even The Machine couldn’t immediately find him? Amazing. Keeping Elias hidden right under Reese and Finch’s noses this entire time? _Fuckin’ gorgeous_. Root always says that people are consistently boring, predictable. She’s not necessarily wrong. But place enough pressure on the right someone and sometimes you’ll see fireworks.

 

Shaw smiles just thinking about it. Carter burned brighter than most.

 

“We’re a team, Shaw,” Reese growls. “If someone’s in trouble, just let me know.”

 

Maybe that isn’t too much to ask. She’s about to say as much when she figures out why she didn’t spot him the night before, and it’s worse than if he’d gone full stalker,  if he’d laid out Carter’s nightgown on the right side of the bed and cuddled it all night long. Some part of her thinks she should touch his shoulder (isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when someone does something pathetic in your presence?) but she can’t bring herself to reach for him, and she doubts he’d be receptive anyway.

 

The nicest thing she can do is to just leave it alone. Shaw takes another bite of chicken and smiles—she’s never been particularly nice. “You slept in the tub, didn’t you?” He doesn’t answer and she almost chokes on a burst of laughter. “You did! I bet you were already inside when I drove up last night. Weren’t you?” That impassive face never moves, but the hand on his paper tightens. He’s irritated. Shaw laughs harder.  “The tub? What, don’t want to lay between her sheets until there’s an invitation to go along with it?”

 

“I don’t think I’m the only one.”

 

She shrugs without confirming or denying. “Zoe, Joss... If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to keep all the pretty girls to yourself. Didn’t you ever learn to share?” Shaw leans back in her chair, looks at him dead on. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

 

Reese’s mouth is a tight, thin line. His eyes are dark.

 

In all the cases they’ve worked on so far, Shaw can’t say she’s ever seen him fight a woman. He’d have no issue coming at her if it came down to it, if she hurt Finch or another member of the team. (Then again, Root has hurt all of them, and the most he’s done is menace her from a respectable distance.) He would never try and pop her one just because he thinks they like the same girl and he called dibs.

 

He sure does look bothered, though. And it sure is fun poking him.

 

Shaw cracks her knuckles and glares back, then sighs. “I don’t think you need to worry about her anyway.” As spectacular as it was, this whole thing was a blip for Carter, not a new way of life. She’ll bring her son home, get back on the force if they let her, find something else as rigid and uncompromising to do if they don’t. She’s still a good person. It’s why they’re drawn to her. “Carter isn’t like us, Reese. She’ll come back from this.” It’s as much as she’s willing to reach out to him.  

 

He makes a noise of agreement and she finishes eating. She cleans up behind herself and makes sure to secure the house before they go their separate ways.  

 

 

…

 

 

It’s nearly a month before Shaw makes her way back to Carter’s front door.

 

As soon as she was released, family members descended from the four corners of the world, Reese was hovering 24/7, and Shaw had her hands full with the numbers. This is the first time she could get away from work.

 

This time, she leaves her lock pick in her pocket and knocks.

 

Carter answers the door in a pair of teal pajama bottoms, a white tank top, her feet are bare and her hair is in a ponytail. She’s holding a mostly empty glass of red wine in her left hand. Shaw shoves her hands in her pockets and tries to stop cataloguing her. “I see you’re still in one piece.”

 

“It’s good to see you, too.” Carter shades her eyes from the sun; smiling, though she looks tired as she steps aside and motions for Shaw to come in. Carter points to a rack behind the door, and Shaw hangs her coat up. She takes a cursory glance around. “Nice place.”

 

Carter stares at her for a second before smiling. “Right. Thanks.”

 

They don’t move further inside of the house and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re really going to pretend like you haven’t been here before?”

 

When she’s caught dead to rights, Shaw usually dispenses with words and starts using her fists, and when forced to discount the option of fighting, the only thing she can think to say is, “ _Uh_ …” Carter just tilts her head, narrows her eyes and waits. Shaw sighs. She’s been clocked twice in less than a month. She might be losing her touch. “How did you know?”

 

“John never eats when he breaks in. So I thought, _who do I know that would come into my house, eat my food, clean up after themselves and not steal my TV_?” She nods in Shaw’s direction and walks back into the kitchen.

 

Shaw follows her. “Sorry?”

 

“It would have just gone bad anyway. At least someone enjoyed it.” She picks up a bottle, a glass and motions towards it. “You want some? It’s good. A friend gave it to me.”

 

She only hesitated a moment before describing the person as a friend, but Shaw’s mind snags on it as she declines. “No thanks. I did enjoy your food,” she adds quickly. “It was really good.”

 

Carter laughs. “Thanks. I wish Taylor was that excited by my cooking.”

 

“Where is he, anyway?”

 

“His dad’s. I just want to make sure…” she trails off. Shaw gets it. She wants to make sure it’s safe for him to be here. That everyone who wants to get to her can’t try and go through him first.

 

Shaw rocks on her heels and watches her. “You’re a good mom.” She feels ridiculous as soon as the words leave her mouth. Shaw doesn’t know Carter, not really. But she admires how sure she is of the world, her innate desire to do good and on a base level, Shaw likes the look of her, the way she carries herself, the way she throws a right hook.

 

None of that explains why she came here tonight.

 

Carter looks surprised at the compliment, but pleased. She puts the clean glass away and places her own in the sink. “Thanks.”

 

They stand there until Shaw notices Carter crossing her arms over her chest and she realizes they’ve been quiet too long, that she’s staring too hard, that things are getting awkward now. “Well, I guess I’ll go—”

 

“No,” Carter cuts in. “Come sit down for a while.” She leads Shaw to the living room and nearly shoves her onto the couch. “Tell me what happened while I was gone.”

 

Shaw studies her. Something’s off here. Maybe she’s scared and doesn’t want to admit it. Maybe she saw something or someone. “Is something wrong?” Shaw’s voice goes low, instantly on high alert. “Is someone—"

 

“No, it’s just… It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t constantly checking to see if I’m _really_ _okay_.” That’s mostly because it never crossed Shaw’s mind. “Just… I’d like it if you hung around for awhile, if you’re not busy.”

 

Shaw relaxes as much as she ever does. “I’m not, and I will.”

 

Carter sinks back into the cushions and laughs again. That’s twice more than she ever has before in Shaw’s company. “Good.” She’s not looking at Shaw; instead, she’s staring at the blank TV screen. Neither of them moves to turn it on. Shaw glances at Carter out of the corner of her eye. Soon enough, Carter is openly looking back, leaning on her side, facing Shaw. She’s starting to sense… _vibes_.

 

Everything feels slightly _off_ again. When you survive what Carter has, it can make people squirrely. They turn inward and get scared, they get a superman complex and think they’re invincible. Shaw would’ve pegged Carter as the latter if she’d had to guess. The glass of wine, the pajamas in the middle of the day… Even though she’s still laid up after catching a bullet to the chest, it doesn’t fit. That’s not the Carter she’s getting to know.

 

There’s a third option: The hedonist. Falling into bottles, screwing around, overdosing. Shaw can’t see her going all the way down that road, but coming from Carter, even a step in that direction is interesting. Shaw turns on her side and meets her gaze. She’s never been averse to celebratory _I’m Alive!!!_ sex, but this could get sticky. Carter isn’t some random she picked up in a bar and will leave bruised and wet and smiling in a few hours. This is someone she knows, someone she won’t be able to shake off quite so easily.

 

Just in case she’s reading this wrong, she doesn’t make a move until Carter starts inching across the cushions. Shaw has never had good impulse control. She’s always felt it was safer (for the public and for herself) to have a handler or a partner or some sort of hard guideline governing her behavior. She’s always been more comfortable as the bullet, not the gun. The only thing she has to guide her now is the look in Carter’s eyes, the way her fingers are creeping up Shaw’s arm, the way she keeps leaning in closer and closer.

 

When they finally kiss, she knows it’s probably a mistake, but she does it anyway. Brings her hand to cup the side of Carter’s jaw, tilts her head to fit closer, as close as she can get. Carter curves her arm around her ribcage and pulls her in so they meet chest to chest. She nips Shaw’s bottom lip, slips her tongue inside when Shaw gasps, and whatever possible fallout they might face is now the last thing on Shaw’s mind.

 

She draws her hand down Carter’s side, pushes her thumb into the armhole of her tank and underneath her bra.

 

She breathes out, shaky, and Shaw smiles. Tries to remember that Carter’s still healing as she lays back and tugs the other woman down over her. Carter is all soft curves, heat and skin. Her mouth is sure against Shaw’s and she wants more, she wants the shirt off. She slips her palm underneath the bottom of the shirt, and starts to pull it up when it snags on something. Carter gasps. Her face is pinched in pain when she pulls back. Her eyes are wide, she looks flustered, but she doesn’t try and move away.

 

Shaw watches as a bead of blood wicks through her shirt and starts spreading across the center of Carter’s top. With the injury she sustained, this could be bad. She sits up and starts pulling the sleeve down to check, without asking.

 

“Hey!” Carter yells, smacking her hand away.

 

“I’m a doctor,” Shaw assures her, trying desperately not to look at her tits. “Or I _was_ a doctor. They fired me. I failed the psych evaluation.” Carter shrugs like that was obvious. “Just,” Shaw moves back towards her slowly, “can I check?”

 

She finally nods and peels the top half of her shirt down, revealing a plain black bra, and a wound that should have killed her, but somehow didn’t. It looks like the stitches are still intact, but they must have pulled a bit because the edge of the incision is weeping. “Do you have gauze? Why isn’t this bandaged?”

 

“I was changing it before you showed up…”

 

“Well, I can—”

 

“It’s fine. They showed me how.”

 

She nods without really hearing. She wants to kiss Carter again, but is wary of spooking her. Shaw moves slowly, nuzzles into the side of her neck, gets her lips on the tendon there, and makes a mental note of the needy sound Carter makes when she adds teeth. Carter’s hands are on her face, pulling her back up to her mouth. They bump noses briefly before Shaw changes the angle. This kiss is different from the ones before; slower, wetter. She’s slipping into a place that’s beyond where even The Machine can reach, beyond thought. Shaw is all hindbrain now. She wants to get out of these jeans. She wants to get between Carter’s legs.

 

Carter pulls back, breathing hard, their faces still close, and touches Shaw’s shoulder, licks her own bottom lip, and the way Carter’s looking at her, the way she feels under Shaw’s hands...

 

If she wants to go scorched earth on some assholes, Shaw will hand her the lighter. If she needs someone to do it for her, Shaw will go to work. If Carter wants to forget her troubles for a while, she’ll gladly drop to her knees. Anything. Right now, Shaw will do _anything_ she asks.

 

But something’s wrong. Carter pushes her hair out of her face, pulls her shirt back up and ( _oh no_ ) she’s overthinking this. She looks at Shaw like she can’t understand how they got here. “I’ll see you later.”

 

Shaw swallows, trying to catch her breath. That isn’t what she was hoping to hear, but there isn’t even the hint of a question mark in Carter’s voice. It’s time for her to make her exit. She stands, and Carter walks her to the door. She watches Shaw as she puts her coat on. She’s flustered, but she doesn’t seem scared or ashamed. Shaw wonders if she’s ever been with a woman before. When she’d investigated Carter before joining the team, there hadn’t been evidence of one in the past. To be fair, there hadn’t been much evidence of men either.

 

Shaw shoves her hair down into the back of her jacket and catches Carter’s eye. She doesn’t look away.

 

Something she keeps from Reese and Finch (or something they may know, but not want to fully believe): at heart, Shaw is an animal. She is completely without boundaries or love or pity. Any sign of weakness, of vulnerability, even in a friend, even in someone she likes and respects. Shaw will find it, and exploit it (if it suits her purposes). Carter’s freaking out, or she’s confused, or she’s worried about what this will do to their team. But she wants Shaw. That’s something. That’s enough.

 

In this moment, she is sure that she could get herself invited back inside. More than that, she’s  almost certain that she could have Carter’s long legs around her waist, Carter’s plush lips on her own, again. It’s easy to imagine them together in that big bed she glimpsed during her visit last week.

 

Carter’s face is as blank as it’s been all night, but the air between them is charged.

 

If all she wanted was a warm bed and an even warmer body, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

 

She’s not sure that’s all she wants anymore.

 

“I’ll see you.”

 

Carter blinks slowly, smiles even slower. “Okay.”

 

“Okay.” Shaw grins back, pulls up her hoodie, shoves her hands into her pockets and closes the door behind her.  They’ll see each other again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, beta! This story wouldn't be what it is without you.


End file.
